The Edge of Armageddon

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dahl saw the world go dark. He saw time slow to crawling pace, the beat of every living heart measured in endless moments. When the grenade bounced, displacing dust and dirt from the floor in a tiny mushroom cloud, his bullet entered the terrorist’s skull, clattering around before it burst out of the back and struck the wall amidst a wide fountain of blood. The body slackened, the life already departed. The grenade came down for its second bounce and Dahl started to let the gun fall away from his face.

Precious seconds remained.

Three terrorists were still on their knees, groaning and defeated, and they did not see what was coming. SWAT guys were trying to arrest their momentum or scramble back up the steps.

Smyth was turning his gaze up at Dahl, the last vision of his life.

Dahl knew that Kenzie and Lauren and Yorgi were at the top of the stairs and had half a moment of hope they were far enough away from the epicenter.

And still, this is all for my children…

The grenade exploded at the height of its second bounce, the sound momentarily the loudest thing the Swede had ever heard. Then all sound was suddenly smothered as thought fell away…

His eyes were fixed ahead, and couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

The SWAT leader had sprinted with everything he had, knowing what was coming and determined to save as many as he could, realizing instantly that he was the only person who could do so. His run took him above the grenade, enabling him to fall directly on top of it in the split-second before it erupted. Through Kevlar and flesh and bone it detonated, but did not touch those who stood transfixed about the room. The blast was muffled and then was gone.

Dahl cleared his throat, unable to believe his own eyes. The selflessness of his colleagues always humbled him, but this was on another level.

I didn’t… I didn’t even know his name.

And still, terrorists knelt before him.

Dahl raced down the last few steps, tears blinding his eyes even as he kicked the three men onto their backs. Smyth tore their jackets open. No explosive vests were apparent, but one man started to foam at the mouth even as Smyth knelt by his side. Another writhed in agony. The third was pinned down, immobile. Dahl met the man’s terrible, polar-cap gaze with a hatred of his own. Kenzie came up and caught the Swede’s attention, looking at Dahl, her ice-blue eyes so clear and cold and flooded with feeling they appeared to be a vast, thawing landscape, and mouthed the only words she could muster.

“He saved us by sacrificing himself. I… I feel so deficient, so deplorable, compared to him.”

Dahl, in all his days, had never found himself unable to comment. He did now.

Smyth frisked all three men, coming up with more grenades, bullets and small arms. Papers and notes were crumpled in pockets, so the assembled men started to rummage through them.

Others walked over to their fallen leader, heads bowed. One man knelt and reached out a hand to touch the officer’s back.

The third terrorist died, whatever poison he had consumed simply taking longer to act than his colleagues’. Dahl watched dispassionately. When his earpiece squawked and Moore’s voice filled his head he listened but could think of no answer.

“Five cells,” Moore told him. “Our sources have found that Ramses has five cells in total. You’ve encountered two, which leaves three remaining. Do you have any new information for me, Dahl? Hello? You there? What the hell is happening?”

The mad Swede toggled a small button that would turn Moore mute. He wanted at least a few seconds to pay his respects in silence. Like all the men and women down there, he survived only because of one man’s enormous sacrifice. This man would never see the light of day again nor the setting sun, or feel a warm breeze play upon on his face. Dahl would experience that for him.

For as long as he lived.